The World In Her Hands
by WeasleyTwinGroupie
Summary: Hermione Granger, The-Girl-Who-Lived, has been restricted in all aspects of her life. Her looks, her grades, her personality. She doesn't even know her true heritage. But that's all about to change. Really bad summary.
1. White Dresses, Black Socks

**Ye Olde Authors' Note: **Hey everyone, this story is loosely based upon my previous story The World In Her Hands, however there will be major plot edits. One being the couple of the story - previously it was Harry/Hermione. I apologise if this annoys anyone, but meh. Deal with it.

**Ye Olde Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did Fred Weasley would positively be alive and currently causing mischief with his twin while his wife, Hermione, keeps him…somewhat…in line.

Enjoy, and please review.

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The sound of footsteps running past Hermione Granger's fading white door was enough to wake the previously sleeping girl from the restless slumber she had just been experiencing. Groaning, the eleven year old girl turned, nestling herself deeper into the comforts of her thin summer duvet, determined to block out the outside world in favor of returning to her dreams.

"Girl! Get ready and then come downstairs to make us coffee!" said a screeching voice from outside the door to Hermione's safe haven. "We've got to leave soon."

Or maybe not, Hermione sighed.

Grumbling, Hermione reluctantly kicked the covers of her as the sounds of footsteps once again faded as the person descended the stairs. Placing her feet into the strategically placed slippers, in order to avoid placing her bare feet upon the icy cold wooden floorboards, she dragged herself up from her four-poster double bed. Sluggishly, she padded her way towards the plain white vanity desk that sat nearly opposite her bed. Blinking the sleep from her eyes she fell gracelessly onto the wooded chair. After rubbing her eyes with her hands she stared at her reflection staring back at her in the mirror, the left side of her face illuminated more by the streams of sunlight that was coming in from the east window.

Scrutinising her reflection, she fixed her gaze upon her hair once again finding herself longing for the bushy, untameable brown mass that reflected her personality. Instead loose, flowing curls hung in it's place the product of the foul smelling lotion her Aunt made her use - "_Anyone seen with me must be the picture of perfection. I can't have your bushy hair blocking me in my own pictures!_".

Sighing, she reached for a baby wipe, wiping her face of any impurities gathered in the night, before standing up, throwing the used wipe into the waste bin and making her way towards the plain white wardrobe hidden in the top left corner of her room.

_Guest room_, she mentally corrected herself, an amused smirk appearing on her face and the mischief shining brightly in her chocolate doe eyes.

It was true however, as the blandness of the room did nothing to confirm the thoughts that someone might be sleeping in here. Only if someone came upon the rarely unmade bed, or perhaps rummaged through the draws would they believe someone had slept in in this room, and had done for most their life.

The old white doors creaked their protest as Hermione pulled them open, retrieving a simple black hoodie with three poker cards spread out on the front. Slamming the doors shut, she left the room, descending down the stairs pulling her hair into a loose bun as she went.

Hermione walked through the double doors into the kitchen, immediately spotting her Aunt Emma applying more make-up to her already orange face in front of the mirror at the end of the adjoined dinning room. Upon seeing her niece's reflection she finished applying her make-up with one final swish, spinning around, her bulging make-up bag clicking shut as she did so. She looked at her niece's choice of clothing - hoodie and blue pyjama bottoms - with distaste her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the design on the hoodie. Hermione simply raised one eyebrow.

"Well," snapped Aunt Emma. "Where's our coffee?"

Her foot, clad in ridiculously high back heels, tapped repeatedly on the dining room's navy blue carpet to convey her impatience and annoyance.

"Sorry Aunt Emma," Hermione mumbled, turning towards the coffee pot in hopes it would mask her rolling her eyes. Fortunately for her, it did.

Aunt Emma obviously didn't catch the sarcastic tones of her niece's words as she stuck her nose up in the air, sniffing haughtily, before she left the room, her heels clicking against the kitchen's tiles as she past, shouting out the name of her daughter, "Primrose!"

Finished making the coffee, Hermione turned carrying the two steaming cups in hand as she walked cautiously towards the antique wooden table situated in the middle of the dining room, the voice of her Aunt plaguing her thoughts as she did so - "_Always place the cutlery on the placemats. I don't want you ruining my table_."

Just as Hermione had placed the mugs on the glass coasters, two figures came gliding through the door, each surrounded by an air of arrogance. The two figures sat themselves down gracefully upon the wooden dining room chairs, with plush red cushions for comfort. Their hands each grasped the white mugs in unison, their fake nail clinking against the mugs as they brought it to their lips, taking a gulp before sighing.

Hermione, standing a little ways away from The Barbies as she had dubbed them, widened her eyes, an expression similar to disbelief on her face as she observed how similar the two people were. She watched them perform in unison, almost as if they had practiced before hand, before shaking her head to brake the trance and quickly scurrying away to get ready for the day.

Closing the door to her room, Hermione once again walked to her dresser and sat down. She picked up the brush sitting on her dresser, before preceding to drag it through her hair, getting rid of all the knots and tangles. Once finished, she carelessly chucked the brush back onto the dresser and stood up, kicking of her slippers before making her way towards the wardrobe. Opening the doors she picked out the correct clothes - "_Not nice enough to upstage me or my Prim, but nice enough for people to assume we take care of you_.".

Shrugging out of her sleep wear, she pulled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, with chains hanging down the left side, connected to the jeans by the belt loops. She paired this with a simple form fitting black top and black converse. Walking to her bed-side dresser, she started at the picture place on top of it.

The picture frame was silver in colour, and had numerous magic related things littering the sides - wands, playing cards, and a top-hat to name a few. Inside the frame was a picture of a young girl with mischief in her bright brown eyes, her bushy hair falling down into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She didn't seem to care. The expression on her face was one of obvious delight as she was hugged by a man who slightly resembled her, with what was usually curly black hair pulled back by some sort of gel to reveal the startling bright blue eyes that were normally hidden underneath. Both had blinding smiles on their faces as they hugged each other.

Hermione sighed sadly, the feeling of emptiness filling her up inside as she started longingly at the man in the photo. Her Uncle Dan was a famous magician, and often found himself leaving home on tours to showcase his unique talents. This left Hermione in the care of her Aunt Emma, as her parents had died when Hermione was young in an accident no one cared to explain. The only thing she had left of her real parents was a silver necklace of a raven with a black onyx eye that constantly started at whoever was looking at it. Also, on her forehead, normally hidden by her fringe she had a lightening bolt shaped scar, one that she received on the night her parents died.

Rolling her eyes at her theatrics, she briskly walked forward grabbed the raven necklace and put it on blindly as she returned to her seat at the dresser. After applying a considerable less amount of make-up than those residing downstairs, she deemed herself ready to leave her house and venture into the natural world.

_Or in this case_, she thought amusedly, _unnatural, as we are going to a photoshot filled with models. _

Standing up she checked her appearance in the mirror once more, running her fingers though her hair in a effort to fluff up her soft curls into something unruly. It didn't work.

_Damn, what was in that lotion?_

Shrugging it of as something unimportant - or at least she hoped it was - she left the room again and began walking down the stairs, the chains clinking together as she went. At the bottom of the steps, standing waiting at the door, was Aunt Emma and her daughter, both dressed immaculately in designer clothes.

Aunt Emma narrowed her eyes when she caught sight of the slightly gothic details of her niece's clothing. Hermione shrugged in response, although even she couldn't help but notice she was dressed decidedly less innocent then her cousin Primrose, who was wearing a flowing white summer dress, her perfect blond hair hanging in waves around her shoulders, and shining blue eyes staring up at you, seemingly ready to overflow with tears - real or fake - at any moment.

Hermione made a metal note to add a black sock in with today's white washing.

Grinning at the thought, she followed her Aunt and cousin into the car, slipping into the backseat just moments before the car sped away.


	2. Slithering Snakes

**Ye Olde Author's Note**: Imagine my surprise when I realised all the notifications for this story! I was blown away by the response. Sadly, however, only two of those E-mails were about Reviews. If you read it, please review it!

_Italics_ means they are speaking in Parseltounge.

Special thanks to:  
**Vorpalkitty**: My first review, yay! I'm glad you like the story, and here's the next update! This chapter is dedicated to you, so enjoy.  
**Gmma 234: **Thanks, glad you liked it.

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Hermione sat in the back seat of her Aunt Emma's car, watching the passing scenery as it blended together to form different shades of colours. She was also trying to block out - in vain - the sickly sweet noise currently coming out of her cousin's mouth.

"Mother," demanded Primrose, her voice sickeningly coated in false sweetness. Her voice reminded Hermione of nails being dragged down a chalkboard. She grimaced at the thought. "Are we nearly there yet?" Primrose continued, boredom now evident in her voice, unconvincingly hidden by false pretences.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. They had only been driving for a few minutes at the most, and, typically, Primrose was already complaining.

"Not much longer, Rosie." quickly replied Aunt Emma. Evidently the thought of either being wrong, or her precious little Rosie being bored was unthinkable, as Hermione saw her Aunt subtly pressing her foot down on the gas pedal, increasing the speed of the car to arrive at their destination quicker. Hermione checked her seat belt in response, pulling the belt out sharply until it locked in position, and then dropping it to allow it to return to it's natural position.

Better safe than sorry.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Primrose found themselves sitting on uncomfortable chairs as they watched their Aunt Emma and Mother respectively as she posed in various different positions with various different animals for billboards and posters that will hopefully, although Hermione wasn't sure how, raise the popularity of their local zoo.

"Doesn't mother look exquisite?" questioned Primrose, interrupting Hermione's plans of how she was going to get the black sock into the white washing and staging it to look like an accident. "I want to be just like her when I grow up." The dreamy expressing on her face told Hermione she was already planning how her future would go.

Hermione studied her Aunt. Her string like bleached blonde her was pulled up into what Hermione supposed was an attempted at an elegant bun on top her Aunt's head, with only a few loose strands, curled like coiled snakes hanging down to frame her face. Her outfit was similar to that of her daughter's, the white summer dress flowing, and swishing around her protruding knees with every twist and turn of movement. The bottom of the dress was designed in swirling threads of gold, much like that of the tight bodice that clung to her Aunt's thin frame, a cage for the lungs, and chest, that wished to expend beneath it. Hermione guessed she was supposed to be posing with a radiant smile on her face if the photographer's words were anything thing to go by. However, the smile was slightly of as Aunt Emma's normally - when starring at Hermione, anyway - accusing eyes, filled with fear as she peered closely at the hissing, yellow snake that had been draped across her shoulders.

"Seriously?" Hermione said, incredulously as she dragged her eyes back to her cousin. She blinked away the spots of light in her vision, left behind from the blinding flashes of the camera. Therefore, she wasn't able to truly appreciate the death glare her cousin was sending her way, the young girl acutely aware of the insult to her mother. Aunt Emma was currently posing in a stiff position as she tried to appear happy about the fact a snake was resting atop her shoulders, the heavy weight of it causing her shoulders to sag slightly.

"Yes," hissed Primrose, all pretences of her innocent behaviour gone as she allowed her features to arrange themselves to that of dislike as she faced her cousin. Hermione stared into her cousin's eyes, unwilling to back down and apologize for her thinly veiled insult of the spoilt girl's mother. Primrose, realizing that her cousin wasn't going to take back her words, huffed before turning in her seat to watch her mother.

Hermione allowed a smug smile to adorn her face as she slipped of the chair, her inquisitive nature showing itself as she decided to explore the place instead of sitting still like her Aunt requested. She could feel her cousin's penetrating gaze on her back as she silently slipped into the shadows, however she refused to turn around and meet the stare. Instead she carried on walking towards a simple table that had been set up at the back, carrying and arrangement of healthy foods. Looking at the collection of fruits and vegetables with distaste, she forced down a single carrot stick before continuing on her journey.

After a few minutes of navigating her way though various twisting colours of wires, Hermione found herself once again gazing at her Aunt Emma, however this time the snake had been replaced by a temperamental monkey, which was currently pulling Aunt Emma's hair harshly into a state of disarray while a zoo keeper attempted to calm the frazzled monkey. Hermione allowed her self a small chuckle before her vision was drawn to a rather large glass rectangular container that had vegetations and a averaged sized dry, hollow log inside. Hermione guessed this was where the snake had been placed after being harassed by demanding people and flashing lights. Cautiously, Hermione made her way over the wires lying carelessly on the floor and came to kneel in front of the large container, peering through the glass in order to find the snake that was hopefully fully secured inside. After a few minutes of staring at her reflection in the glass, Hermione's eyes were drawn to movement happening in the hollow confines of the log.

Slowly, the snakes head gracefully twisted itself out of the hollow log, it's body coiled behind him as he slithered silently through the vegetation placed at the bottom to the see-through cage. Raising it's head slowly, it's black, beady eyes stared right into the chocolate swirls that were Hermione's eyes.

"Hello there, you probably hate this attention don't you? I bet you at least hated the glaring flash of the camera?" Hermione mumbled to her self, seemingly unaware the words were even passing her lips as she stared into the black, bottomless depths that was the snake's eyes.

As if in response, the words, "_You have no idea_." were seemingly hissed from no where. The words materializing in the air as it flew past her ear. Hermione frantically searched for the source of the sound, her chestnut curls bouncing on her shoulders as her head whipped left and right. When Hermione spotted no one close enough to whisper the words, Hermione's logical mind came to the conclusion it must have been the snake, which was now staring at her almost curiously, it's head cocked to the side as if it had asked her a question and was waiting, patiently, for a response, despite how illogical this idea seemed.

Feeling like an idiot, Hermione glanced around once more, and seeing no one was paying attention to her, as usual, faced the snake, "Was that you?" She eyed the snake in apprehension.

_Of course_, hissed the snake, it's head bobbing up and down slowly to the surprise and shock of Hermione.

Hermione was still gazing at the snake in wonderment, and consequently did not hear her cousin's approaching footsteps' as she manoeuvred, hopped and jumped her way across the abundant wires.

"Found the snake, have you?" inquired Primrose, pulling Hermione out of her trance. Hermione bit her tongue in order to hold back the sarcastic reply begging to be released.

Of course, duh. You're staring at it, are you not?

Hermione blinked owlishly, shaking her head subtly, in order to disperse the wonderment fogging her brain. Hermione focused on her cousin again, the offensive words to the snake penetrating her head.

"Mother tried posing with the snake various times while you were gone, apparently the snakes are one of their most popular exhibits, however the snake was dreadfully temperamental, and refused to obey the commands of the photographer," Primrose informed Hermione, in a haughty tone of voice. "Rather useless things if you ask me, I mean, they don't do much do they?"

Hermione's anger had steadily rose throughout the tirade, and with the last sentence exploded in an invisible bust of energy, the only response of its release the shrill scream that left Primrose's lips as the snake darted out the glass enclosure, the glass wall seemingly dissolved by the raw energy that erupted from Hermione, and slithered across the hand Primrose had settled near the base of the cage as she kneeled next to Hermione. The girls both jumped back as the snake continued to slide silently away.

Turing back around to face Hermione, the snake hissed a quiet "_Thanks._" before disappearing from sight, veiled only slightly by the wires swarming the floor. Hermione nodded her head slowly in astonishment, stopping a few seconds later as she realized the snake had already disappeared from sight. The girls scrambled to their feet, staring at each other, their gazes' locked before they realized the eyes currently staring at the two.

Immediately, Primrose jumped to defend herself, armed with her false sense of innocence, she turned to Hermione again, "What did you do?" she exclaimed. Instantaneously, the plentiful staff fixed their condemning gazes on Hermione.

Hermione smiled innocently, before turning around to face her cousin, "I didn't do anything," she hissed. She know it was useless however, as she could already feel the penetrating gaze of Aunt Emma, the promise of untold horrors yet to come.

The car ride home was deadly silent, the car filled with unmistakable tension. The photoshot had been cut short, in a bid to find the run away snake that had managed to flee from it's prison, a fact Hermione's Aunt was less than pleased with. Exiting the car, Aunt Emma slammed the door shut with more force than necessary before grabbing the back of Hermione's neck and forcibly dragging her into the house. Hermione stumbled slightly up the steps, however Aunt Emma was undeterred as she continued to drag Hermione in the direction of her room.

"You've to stay in here for the rest of the night," hissed Aunt Emma, harshly bashing the white door open with her shoulder, Hermione didn't miss the slight wince though, before flinging her niece inside. "I don't want to see your face until you're required to make our coffee."

Hermione had just enough time to catch the cat that caught the canary expression on her cousin's face, a smug, satisfied smile lifting her lips, before the door was slammed shut in her face with a loud, obnoxious bang.

Sighing, she turned towards her book self, the only thing in the room that was easily seen as being in use, the books overflowing, more books pilled up at the side, in dangerously high piles. Hermione's only escape from the world around her. Grabbing a book, she nestled herself into the comforts of her bed, balancing the book on her thighs, submitting herself to the written word

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Review please? ,

**Mischief Managed. **


	3. Guilty Letters

**Ye Olde Authors' Note:** Another chapter! I apologize for the wait, but you know, life and stuff. I can't remember if I already answered this question or not but **Harry will probably just be a normal kid - as normal as a kid wizard can be anyway - however he will still be one of Hermione's best friends, so you never know what could happen to him**.

Enjoy, and please review! And ignore any mistakes, I don't have a Beta.

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Hermione awoke with a start as she was roused from her slumber by a loud bang. Disorientated, she dragged herself into a sitting position, blinking the sleep way from her eyes. Glancing down, she noted she was still wearing her clothes from the night previous. Peeking over the side of her bed, she realised the source of the loud noise. She must fallen asleep reading, and rolled over in her sleep, as the book now lay in a hazardous position on the floor.

She sighed, and then gingerly reached down to inspect the damage on her book. This was the same way she had ruined two books. They had fallen down from her bed one too many times and eventually the spine could not take it any more and fell apart. Picking it up, she examined the damage done to the creased spine. It would survive, she determined. This time.

Placing her feet into the slippers, she stood up and made her way over to the bookcase to deposit her book in its usual place. Staring out the window, she realised, if she was quick - and quiet - enough, she would be able to go downstairs and have something to eat before her Aunt woke up. She had done this before, and had only been caught once or twice but was able to make up a reasonable excuse to be saved from being punished.

She smirked; recalling the time she couldn't help herself, and she had eaten her Aunt's hidden chocolate. The look on her face after her Aunt attempted to skip in her diet only to find there was no chocolate in her, what she believed to be, hidden and unknown stash was enough to make Hermione giggle even now.

Creeping quietly towards her bedroom door, she attempted to pull the door open quietly. Her face quickly expressed her confusion as she realised she could not pull the door open. Twisting the golden orb that was the door handle, she pulled again, momentarily forgetting to be as quiet as possible. Glancing down to the door handle, she realised the cause of the door's inability to move. Nestled comfortably under the handle, a black hole resided in the shape of a keyhole.

She was confused at first as to why there was even a keyhole on a bedroom door. Surely, that would breach some health and safety rules, somewhere? What if there was a fire? She had to get out somehow, which would be almost impossible with a locked door blocking her path and she in no position to get the key. She could climb out her window, sure, she had done it plenty of times before. Perched herself on her window ledge and launch herself onto the nearest tree before climbing down. It had been extremely painful at first, and she had even fallen from the tree once or twice, but as she got better at it, it seemed to be turned into an art form. Balancing effortlessly on her window ledge before gracefully propelling herself towards the nearest tree, and climbing down with ease.

It just seemed like too much, and before she could even think about perching on her ledge, she had to practically give herself a ten-minute pep talk. She hated heights. She was not scared of them, oh no, she just wasn't particularly…fond of them. She would much rather she used the door for exiting her room, after all, that's half of what door are used for anyway.

She chuckled in humour at the mini-scenario that played out in her head. She had just finished climbing down from the tree, and spotted her Aunt Emma and Primrose bent over at the knees and gasping for breath as the smoke they inhaled from the blazing fire currently assaulting the house behind them contaminated their lungs. She had spared them a quick glace checking to see of they were injured in anyway - they may be horrible to her, but the were still family, and after asserting that there wasn't, she had ran straight into back into the house, through the front door this time. Rushing to the kitchen, and avoiding anything bright, orange and flickering, she had easily found the key to her room. Returning to her room via the tree, she had then used the key to open the door and escape from the house once more.

She shook her head, dispelling the morbid thoughts. She was getting really concerned with the direction her thoughts always seemed to end up in, some of it was just darn right sinister. Standing up from the crouched position she hadn't realised she was standing in; she made her way over to the dresser. Glancing out her window, she determined she still had enough time to sneak down and get some much-needed food. Picking up paper clip and a spare kirby, she went to pick the lock. As she had mentioned, she enjoyed reading, only not all of her books were honest tales of a prince saving a damsel in distress.

Hermione had learned early on in her life if you wanted something done, it was best to do it yourself. And sometimes this means you had to use a few less then honourable ways.

Having successfully picking the lock, she escaped the confines of her room. She would swear, one of these days, those walls would close in on her. After carefully making her way down the stairs - avoiding the second last step, as it was always squeaky - she walked into the kitchen feeling rather satisfied with herself. She took full advantage of the fact there were no annoying presences in the room and gave herself a rather filling breakfast to keep her going for the rest of the day. If she was right, and not to sounds conceited or anything, but she generally was, then her Aunt would still be annoyed with her for her actions yesterday. Meaning she wouldn't get more than scraps tonight.

She had just finished putting away her used utensils when her Aunt walked into the kitchen.

Perfect timing, smiled Hermione.

"What are you smiling about?" interrogated her Aunt, her usual sneer adorning her face. She was dressed impeccably again in a rich caramel dress that dipped dangerously low at the cleavage. The bust area was bunched together in a flattering look before it flowed downward, hugging her Aunt's non-existent curves. The dress itself was lovely. The person, however, left a lot to be desired.

Her polished blonde hair was pined up again in a sophisticated look. And of course, as always the make-up was over done.

It was the dress that was most significant to Hermione. She knew people very well. Being forced to be seen but not heard gave you time to study and learn the notorious art of body language, and learn people's quirk. A single twitch could give away what someone thought, his or her feelings, and what course of action they are going to take. To Hermione anyway.

She liked to believe she knew her Aunt - and her cousin - well enough to know what certain things meant. And that dress promised one thing. They were going out again today. Her Aunt always wore dresses outside in the public eye, in the hopes of being seen as a 'proper lady'.

Quickly wiping the smile from her face, Hermione relied with a quiet, "Nothing," before attempting to manipulate her Aunt's thought into a different direction, "What would you like for breakfast?"

After sending Hermione a probing glare, her Aunt responded, "Something light and quick, we're going out again today."

"Really?" mumbled Hermione, already in the process of getting out the necessary ingredients for omelettes, "I would never have guessed."

Her Aunt did not respond, as she had already left the room after giving her niece the orders for breakfast. Hermione finished preparing breakfast and left it on the table with a loud shout of "Breakfasts ready!" before she legged it up the stairs to get herself ready for the day.

After breakfast the three ladies - Hermione having come down halfway through breakfast - exited the house to accomplished whatever task Aunt Emma had lined up for that day.

Hermione was exhausted when she arrived back home. Apparently, the task Aunt Emma had set up for the day was shopping. More than three gruelling hours of carrying shopping bag, after shopping bag for Hermione while the other two merrily skipped into shop, after shop, thrusting each new bag at Hermione as they came. She had pointedly ignored the pitying, concerned and confused faces of employees' and passer-bys.

Primrose was starting school again soon, and evidently needed a completely new wardrobe to do so. Never mind the fact that Hermione was starting the same school, on the same day, at the same time, and all she had to wear was the cast-offs from Primrose and the few articles of clothing she had bought herself from money she made from her job.

It was when they had finally arrived home that the commotion started. It was a Sunday, a day where everyone knew there was no mail delivered. And maybe that's why Primrose was unobservant and, consequently, unprepared.

Hermione had nearly cried in relief when they had finally arrived home. However, the hope that she could go up stairs to her room and rest on her bed was shattered by the voice of her Aunt as she opened the car door.

"Don't forget to bring all the bags in." Damn.

Hermione thought of ignoring her Aunt, pretending she had thought her Aunt was talking to Primrose instead of her, but she realised that would be useless, as her Aunt _and_ Primrose were already walking up the path towards the door. Grabbing as many bags as she could take in the hope of cutting down the amount of trips she would have to take to get all the bags in, Hermione carelessly hauled them out the car. She ignored the way her Aunt watched with a disapproving frown on her face as she searched for the keys in her fairly large handbag.

Her Aunt had just found the keys when Hermione arrived next to them and, after watching Aunt Emma open the door, Hermione had a front row seat to watch her cousin fall flat on her arse.

Hermione could barely restrain herself from falling on the floor laughing as she watched the confused expression on her cousin's face. Quickly bending down to help her distraught daughter - Hermione almost considered telling her Aunt the tears weren't real - Emma saw the cause of her daughters' fall. Lying innocently on the ground was an envelope. Emma concluded her dear Primrose had slipped on the offending item. With a look that told the envelope exactly what she thought of it, she bent down to snatch it.

After reading the words for the second time she glanced towards her niece who was still laughing, "It's for you." she stared accusingly.

The sentence stopped Hermione laughing immediately. Even Primrose had stopped her flow of tears when she heard her Mother's sentence. No body ever sent Hermione mail. "What?!" she voiced her thoughts.

Ignoring her niece, Emma glanced down to read the words written in a flowing emerald green ink once more.

**Miss H. Granger  
****The Guest Room  
****8 Duncan Crescent  
****Little Whinging, Surrey.**

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**Ye Olde Authors' Note:** Well, that's all folks. Any suggestions for this story please tell me in a review as I would _love_ to hear them!

_Mischief Managed. _


	4. Emerald Ink

**Ye Olde Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait. I had exams on and stuff. Oh, the joys of 5th year. And I know Criminal Minds might not have been out at this time, but it's one of my favourite shows so just deal! Please review?

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Hermione was stunned. She had never gotten a letter before. And the fact that her first one was the thing responsible for her cousin's, tragic fall, well. That's just the icing on the cake, isn't it? She couldn't wait to open up _her_ letter. It felt weird saying that, as she had mentioned before, she had never received a letter before.

She attempted to reach out to take it, but suddenly realized the heavy weight of the shopping bags she was holding. They clawed at her wrists, pulling them down. Her Aunt Emma stared at the letter, reading the writing again, before starring at her niece is disbelief. She abruptly tuned around and sauntered of through the hallway without a backward glance. Primrose seemed quite put out her Mother had just left her by the door, after she had been crying. With a huff to convey her annoyance and an ice glare to her retreating back, she stomped after her Mother making a loud racket as she did so.

Hermione soon followed after shaking herself out of her trance. Using her foot, she shut the door with a quick kick. She was too curious about the letter to register the quick burst of pain in her foot. Trailing slowly behind from the weight of the bags, Hermione eventually found herself standing in the kitchen. She jogged slightly to the dinning room table, eager to place the heavy bags upon it.

She never looked at her Aunt, or her cousin who was staring at her Mother in confusion. Sighing in relief that she was finally free of the bags, she rubbed her red wrists as she turned to face the kitchen. She hadn't looked up yet, too busy inspecting her raw wrists to notice her Aunt's smile of glee.

She noticed the smell though.

Sniffing in confusion, Hermione cocked her head to the side trying to place the smell. She came to the realisation quickly, for although she enjoyed pranking and just being silly in general, Hermione was one - if not the - smartest person at her school.

It was paper. Or more precisely, burning paper.

Her quick mind immediately thought of her first ever letter, her eyes snapped up towards her Aunt who was standing in the kitchen staring into a dish with a satisfied smirk on her face. Hermione finally noticed the smoke from the dish that was wafting out the open window. She immediately knew what was burning inside the dish.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted as she sprung forwards towards her Aunt. Her cousin had already left the room, disgruntled at the fact she wasn't the center of attention. Grabbing the oven mitts, she picked up the dish, placing it in the pristine white sink and turning the tap on. When the small fire had been put out, Hermione looked down into the dish with disappointment. Aunt Emma however, gave a satisfied nod to herself before walking out, her heels clicking against the floor once again.

Hermione stared down at blackened pile, her finger gently prodding it. She sighed, resigned to the fact she wouldn't be able to read the first letter she had ever been sent. She hadn't even properly seen it, only glimpses of green flowing ink as her Aunt brandished the letter about it disbelief. She should have known her Aunt would have done something like this. She had heard her Aunt messing around with the dishes, the clangs as the ones unsuited for the job were moved aside, crashing into others. Her Aunt never cooked, it was always Hermione who did, therefore she had no reason to be searching through pots and pans. Hermione thought her Aunt didn't even know how to cook! In fact, the only reason she would be in the kitchen would be to see if Hermione had stolen any of her good silver pieces.

Sighing in acceptance, Hermione picked up the dish and walking to the bin, she regretfully binned her unread and burned first letter. Shaking her head, she tried to expel any thoughts of what the letter may have been about. She was a curious child, and the fact she had gotten her first letter and did not know what it contained within - and no way of knowing - bothered her. Quite a bit.

She walked back to her room, walking past the opened door to the living room as she did. She peered into the living room, catching her Aunt and cousin sitting in the living room. She rolled her eyes at the conversation taking place.

"Mother, can I watch TV?" asked Primrose, knowing full well her Mother was already watching her favourite TV show, Criminal Minds.

"Honey, I'm watching this…" Hermione heard her Aunt say hesitantly, obviously the thought of possibly upsetting her pride and joy was unsettling to her.

"Mother…" It could have been a whine, or a warning, Hermione wasn't sure. She had just enough time to hear the remote control being thrown to her cousin and the television being turned over before her footsteps on the stairs blocked out most of the noise before she was too far away to hear anything from the room and the people residing in it. She rolled her eyes due to her Aunt's spinelessness.

Opening the door to her safe heaven, Hermione allowed a small smile to grace her features. While the room looked unused in and plain, the bookshelf looked anything but. Books over-flowed from the shelves, smaller books crammed into the spaces above each shelf's row of books. No two books looked the same, different colours and sizes graced the large space she had designated to her books. Most were non-fictional, however a few books were fictional. They all varied in size as well.

It was safe to say, Hermione was rather proud of her book collection. Especially, due to her young age.

She smiled fondly again, closing her door she made her way to her beloved bookshelf. Picking a book at random, she settled down in her bed to read, finally able to rest after a gruelling hard days work.

After what Hermione assumed had been a couple hours, she was eventually shouted down to make dinner for her Aunt and cousin. Sighing, Hermione bookmarked her page before leaving to prepare dinner for her family. Something no eleven year old should have to do.

Once the dinner was finally made, Hermione called out to her relatives as she placed all the dishes on the table. Despite the fact Hermione was the one to prepare the meal, she would most likely eat very little of it. The dinner was a tense affair, for Hermione anyway. Her Aunt and cousin were constantly glaring at her. She knew why Primrose was glaring at her, most likely because of the letter which made her fall, however she didn't fully understand why her Aunt was.

In fact, Hermione realised, it seemed like her Aunt had been avoiding her every since they arrived home. Even when Hermione was working in the kitchen with her Aunt hovering around, she never went more into Hermione's personal space than needed, giving Hermione a wide berth. Hermione wondered if it had anything to do with the letter that was sent to her. Did her Aunt know who sent the letter? What it was about? Was that even the reason her Aunt was avoiding her?

Hermione didn't know. Instead of asking the questions that were swimming around inside her head, she quickly finished her meagre meal. After dinner Hermione, as always, did the dishes, dried them put them away and cleaned up the kitchen and dining room. After finishing the rest of her chores, Hermione quickly retreated to her room- so her Aunt couldn't give her anymore chores - intent on finishing the book she was reading.

However, no matter how lost she was to the book, there was always something on her mind. A flash of a creamy white envelope with words written in flowing emerald green ink upon it.

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**Ye Olde Author's Note:** Please review!

_Mischief Managed._


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